


Grave Discusssion

by fab_fan



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Angst and Drama, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Contemplation, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Family Drama, Family Issues, Gen, Introspection, Light Angst, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Post-Betrayal, Post-Season/Series 01, Random & Short, Short, Short One Shot, The Author Regrets Everything, Thinking!Raelle, mentions of raelle/scylla, not my best but posting it anyways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29056818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fab_fan/pseuds/fab_fan
Summary: It was quiet.The graveyard was always quiet.In the distance the faint hum of life could be felt vibrating through the wisps of wind meandering carefully along the tips of the yellowed grass to tickle the ear and remind the mind that there was still a world beyond that of death and decay. Where the well manicured plots, orderly and neat, all the same size, all the same color, gave way to vibrancy and movement.That was in the distance though.Much like many things in her life seemed to be.
Relationships: Raelle Collar & Willa Collar
Comments: 14
Kudos: 29





	Grave Discusssion

**Author's Note:**

> No idea where this came from. Hopefully you enjoy it.

It was quiet.

The graveyard was always quiet.

In the distance the faint hum of life could be felt vibrating through the wisps of wind meandering carefully along the tips of the yellowed grass to tickle the ear and remind the mind that there was still a world beyond that of death and decay. Where the well manicured plots, orderly and neat, all the same size, all the same color, gave way to vibrancy and movement. 

That was in the distance though.

Much like many things in her life seemed to be.

Far away.

Another lifetime. A different lifetime. 

A mirage.

A faint recollection twisted by time to resemble something altogether unrecognizable except for a tiny spark that teased the brain into paying attention because...this was important. This mattered. 

There was something there. Something tangible. 

Something that wasn’t true.

But then, everything seemed to be a lie these days.

Raelle peered up through unfocused eyes into the waning sun, the slim sparse patches of light like tattered remnants of thread spiraling out from a giant bit of cloth, slowly unspooling until there was nothing left but the memories of a once vibrant coat cloaking the heavens. Her weathered coarse hand slowly rose up and hovered over her eyes, and she lethargically blinked, wondering for a second if she could reach up and grab the silky southern strands. Hold on tight and pull and pull until she had a handful of  _ something _ .

Anything.

She didn’t. 

Instead, she let her bare sun darkened and work roughened hand drop down to swing listlessly by her waist, both calloused hands as empty as her pockets were as a child and as her chest felt now.

An emptiness that never went away. Not really.

An emptiness that had only grown as the days passed. As she grew older. Her body more broken. Her soul more devastated. Thoughts torn apart and heart cut up, what little effort put in to sew it all back together as useless as the charm she no longer wore into combat and the childlike belief she once had in love. 

Her seasoned fingers stretched and flexed, muscles creaking and bones cracking, the unseen torments and toils baked into the flesh like the dusty dirt in the flat plot of grassy land beneath her scuffed black boots. Her tongue unconsciously swept out to wet her dry lips, and her throat bobbed delicately with a rough thickened swallow that had her rubbing at her nose with the back of her hand, a streak of dried mud and blood forever imprinted in the creases and crevices, no amount of washing ever making it disappear. Not to her eyes. Not to her mind.

Just like the visions in her head that refused to go away. Refused to stop.

Visions of a woman she never thought she’d see again. 

Two women.

Two women who haunted her now.

Infiltrated her dreams. Her solitude. 

Forced her to always stay focused. Always moving. Observing. Training. Working. Fighting.

Two women who made her turn into the soldier the officers and their brethren never could.

Two women.

One a brunette with blue eyes that made Raelle feel like she was falling, plummeting through the sky, salva run out and no hand to grab onto. A voice that made her blood boil with anger and her head pound with tears she covered with rage that hurt her just as much as her target. Destroyed her because she never wanted to hurt the other girl. No. She wanted to hold her. Comfort her. Take solace in the fact that she was there, alive, healthy, and strong. Wanted to kiss her. Touch her. Make sure this was real. She was real. Wanted to push her away and pull her close. 

Two women.

One a brunette necro she was in love with. Who took her already battered heart and shattered it with one hard blow.

The other, a blonde whose war hardened face and battle scarred hands made Raelle believe for a moment that she truly had died in China and unknowingly traveled to the other world. A moment where she accepted her own death. Only to have that moment replaced with an even worse one. One filled with so much pain that Raelle couldn’t remember anything beyond the sickening overwhelming agony that enveloped her entire being. A realization that drove her to the ground. Into a pit of darkness she had so desperately tried to not succumb to. A place of such anger and sadness and despair that it was a wonder Raelle was able to control herself and not let her emotions destroy anything.

Izadora would have been proud. Anacostia, too.

Because Raelle wasn’t dead.

And neither was the other blonde.

Raelle shook her head at herself. At what she was doing.

She shouldn’t be there.

She didn’t want to be there.

Yet, there she was.

A handful of days reprieve from Fort Salem. From the mess that was the military. The wars. The constant fighting and training and never-ending regrets and fears and pain. 

A handful of days she could spend back home. Back with her pop. Back where she belonged, if she ever belonged anywhere. 

Did she belong there?

Had she ever?

Did she now?

Where was she meant to even be? On the front lines? At Fort Salem, in a training room? Roaming the pathways late at night? On a plane bound for another battle? Soaring through the sky, high on salva and adrenaline? 

In a plot next to the one she stood before?

Nothing more than a photo placed delicately next to a folded flag and rusted chipped medal?

A figment in the back of Abigail and Tally’s minds? Someone they once knew?

Was she meant to be a thing made of flesh and bone?

Or dust? Dirt? The sand, gravel, and mud beneath shiny black boots marching forward, another new class of cadets preparing to face the unknown?

Her fingertips shook imperceptibly.

Was she meant to be in a pair of warm arms? Tucked away from the world?

Was she meant to  _ be _ that pair of arms? Holding fast to a girl who stole her heart and filled her soul with a light that was blinding in its intensity? A flame that, once lit, could never be extinguished, no matter time or distance or lies?

Lies.

Was it all a lie?

Was she a lie?

Was this a lie right now? Her? Alive?

Was anything real?

What could she even trust?

The feel of the wind rustling her braids?

The cold of the carved stone in front of her? Sides smooth and front gleaming?

The firmness of the earth?

What could she believe in?

Taking a deep breath, Raelle allowed her blue eyes to finally fully descend past the willowy withering clouds and sun hazed air to rest heavily on the tombstone laid out before her. The grey polished rock was neatly and efficiently carved with simple words and dates. Nothing to distinguish it or set it apart except for the small military symbol near the top and the tiny bouquet of wildflowers wrapped in a bright yellow ribbon that rested near the base. A smattering of small white petals, delicate yet determined, that Raelle always remembered her mama loving when her pop would show up with some he’d picked to surprise her on an early weekend morning when she was home between deployments. 

Raelle stared hard at the flowers. Almost against her will, though, her gaze lifted to the sparse carvings. She felt her throat tighten like an invisible noose had been roped around her neck, and her chest hitched with a jolt.

_ Willa Collar. _

_ Soldier.  _

_ Wife.  _

_ Mother. _

No.

No. No. No.

The blonde’s teeth gnashed together. A painful pull tugged at her temples, and her chest felt like a burning inferno scorched her insides. The flames licked at her belly and ignited in her veins, consuming her insides in a blinding blaze of rage filled pain. A boulder the size of the Cession, and just as heavy, bared down on her shoulders, and her lungs heaved for air.

Willa Collar.

Soldier.

Wife.

Mother.

Raelle’s jaw quivered as she bit down harder. Her mouth shook, and she blinked, eyes darkening and emptying like her soul. Emotions bursting to the surface only to dissipate in the wind, leaving her nothing more than a shell. An outline of madness. 

Soldier? 

Wife? 

Mother?

Raelle’s lips twisted in a sneer. 

Willa Collar.

Traitor.

Liar.

Heartbreaker.

Not real.

None of it was real.

Willa Collar. 

_ Mama _ .

Her mama.

She was only a fantasy.

A woman Raelle looked up to. Admired. Revered.

Believed in and loved with everything inside of her.

Waited everyday for a letter from growing up. Eagerly read every sentence. Every word. Memorized each passage like preachers memorized the bible and school teachers memorized poetry and Shakespeare. 

Wore her mother’s ring with pride. With a sense of love so strong her younger self would never have taken the small piece of jewelry off. 

A woman Raelle missed so much that it made her body ache. 

A medic Raelle wanted to impress. To show that she could heal people, too. Just like Mama taught her to.

A woman everyone said Raelle looked so much like. Spitting image. 

The one who gave Raelle her witch side. Her Work. 

The woman Raelle wanted to become.

How many nights had she spent with her pop looking at old photos and telling stories about the matriarch who would be home soon? Who loved Raelle more than anything? Who kept choosing her family even when everyone else shunned her? When the army punished her?

The mother Raelle built up in her mind as this strong, proud, powerful, loving person who believed in and chose her family above everything else. That proved loyalty and love were just as important as anything else. That, if you loved someone, you protected them. Cared for them. Came home to them. Did everything you could to...to love them.

What a fool Raelle had been.

It was all a dream.

A lie.

Her pop had been loyal. Raelle had been loyal. Loving. Cherishing. Trusting. 

What a fool.

She was so stupid.

So. Stupid.

The crunch of the crisp crackling grass behind her alerted the fixer to another’s presence.

She felt the person approach. Could feel them.Their aura. Remorseless. Guiltless. Calm and confident in their being. 

In who they were.

Their thoughts.

Their beliefs.

Their lies.

Raelle refused to turn around. She kept her eyes forward. Locked on the tombstone. The careful etchings carved into the grey. Bit down hard enough to stop her jaw from ticking. She read the words over and over in a feeble attempt to focus. To ignore the other visitor.

The words played in her head again and again and again.

Willa Collar.

Collar.

Wife.

Mother.

_ Collar _ .

“Raelle.”

Her hands shook at her sides. Tendons ached as she squeezed her fingers into fists so tight for a second it felt as if she would break bones. Crumble into the dust she still might be. Float away on the wind to disappear forever. 

She didn’t look at where the voice came from. Kept her face neutral. Impassive. Emotionless except for the slight tremble of her eyelashes.

Inside, though...inside Raelle felt like she would explode.

Willa sighed exhaustedly and stepped up beside her daughter, their shoulders nearly brushing as the physical distance between them closed.

The emotional chasm remained wider than the largest of canyons, though. Untraversed. Seemingly unconquerable.

Their first encounter had not gone as the older witch had hoped. 

None of their encounters had.

The silence was deafening between them. Heavy. Loathsome. Uncomfortable. Agitated. Bitter and acrid.

The seconds ticked by.

One.

Two.

Three.

“I was surprised to hear you came here.” Willa eyed the tombstone. Her tombstone. She noticed the flowers, “Your father always had a romantic streak inside of him.”

The taut band inside of Raelle snapped.

And snapped hard.

She tasted the harsh growl passing across her lips, “Don’t talk about him.”

Willa’s spine seemed to snap straight at the sharp order.

Taking another shattered breath, Raelle spoke up quietly, eyes wet and blurry, “Did you know?”

Willa turned her head to look at her, not understanding the question.

Raelle fought to keep her voice even, but it had already deepend with prickling torment, “Did you know you were going to break us when you left?”

Willa’s back was stiff, “Raelle,”

“Did you?” Raelle whipped around to face her, features full of heartbreak and soul full of fire, “Did you know when you said goodbye you were going to hurt us? Did you look Pop in the eye and lie to him? Did you hug me goodbye knowing you were going to tear our family apart?”

Willa stared at her hard, blue eyes the same as Raelle’s in color, but closed off, unemotional. Dead. “If you would…”

“No!” Raelle’s shout echoed like a gunshot. “No! Tell me! When did you know? When? When did you decide to lie to me? To Pop? To lie about everything?” Her hand gestured wildly, “When did you know you were going to leave us?”

“I did what I did to save you. To protect you.”

“No, no you didn’t.” Raelle shook her head. “You did this for yourself.”

“If you would look past your stubbornness for one minute…”

“How did this save anyone?” Raelle yelled. “How? Tell me, Mama. Tell me how you leaving me and Pop did anyone anything besides break our hearts. Tell me!” She thrust her hand out to her side, pointing at the headstone, “We buried you! We had your funeral. We got a flag and your medal. You left and never came home.” Tears stung the backs of her eyes, “You never came home, Mama. Every day we had to know you were never going to walk back through our door. Pop had to go to sleep every night thinking his wife was gone forever. That he had to raise me all on his own. That...that he’d have to say goodbye to me and be left alone in that house you two decided to be together in.” She sucked in a shaky breath, “Protect us? Save us? Me? By making me think my mama was dead? That death was the only future I had?”

“Raelle,”

“Don’t.” Raelle waved her hands, “I don’t care. I don’t want to know.” Her glare was as cold as ice, “Stay away from me. Stay away from Pop. Get the hell out of the Cession, and don’t come near Salem.” 

With that, she turned and began to march away.

Away from the woman she once thought she knew. 

Away from the woman who was, in her mind, still beneath that tombstone.

She was done.

Done believing in lies.

In fantasies and fairytales.

In stories about a woman who would come home. 

She was done believing.

Willa Collar was dead to her.

“You think you can trust them?” Willa called out.

Raelle paused midstep but didn’t turn around.

“The army? Your unit? Your leaders? It’s a death sentence. You’ve always known that, girl. Even before I left. They already left you behind once. You think they won’t again?”

Raelle shook her head and started walking.

She didn’t want to hear this.

She didn’t need to.

She knew who Alder was. Who and what the army was.

She knew who had betrayed her.

She knew who hadn’t betrayed her.

Who had chosen her.

“You think Scylla Ramshorn will be there for you?” Willa shouted.

The words were like a bomb. An explosion that ricocheted throughout the graveyard. Detonated only to suck up all the air, a vacuum of unspoken silent emotion.

Devastating.

Igniting.

Erupting.

Raelle was in her mother’s face before either realized the younger witch had changed direction, “ _ Don’t _ talk about her.”

Willa met her glare, “She used you once for the Cause. Don’t fool yourself. That girl believes in one thing, and one thing only. She’ll use whoever she needs to to accomplish it.”

Raelle’s voice dropped to a hoarse growl, “ _ You _ used Scylla. You did. You told her to recruit me. To take me to you.” Raelle moved closer, her eyes narrowed, “She didn’t. She chose me.  _ She chose me _ .” Raelle sneered, “Something you’ve never done.” Stepping back her voice dripped with threats, “Stay away from her.”

Raelle might not be talking to Scylla. The very thought of the necro might make her heart hurt so badly she felt like she was dying, but she’d be damned if her mother did anything to the other witch. Said one word about her. 

Scylla was off limits.

“Sarah Alder has something planned. You can’t trust her.” Willa tried one last time.

Raelle shrugged, “I know. Just like I know you’ll stay on the sidelines and watch. Just like you always have.” She scoffed, “Maybe next time, don’t send the woman I’m going to fall in love with to try to fuck me over. You can do that all on your own.”

With one last glance, she walked away. 

**Author's Note:**

> There it is. Let me know if you have any thoughts. Good? Horrendous? Why are you not working on your other stories? Drop me a line! And, no, I still have no idea where this came from or why I wrote it. Blame the insomnia. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
